Page 23 of Trevor Takes Care

Ellie returned to drop her toy at G.G.’s feet, her tail still wagging.

“You don’t have to pet her, but if you want to, she’s not a biter or lunger.” Trevor hadn’t even finished the warning before G.G. bent down to gently scratch the top of Ellie’s head and behind her ears. “Also,” Trevor knew he was smiling a shamefully dorky smile but did nothing about it, “if you tell her ‘down’ or ‘sit,’ she’ll obey. You just can’t laugh as you say it. She knows laughter and thinks it means you find her charming.”

“Because sheischarming,” G.G. replied to Ellie, tone incredibly serious.

Trevor was going to throw him down and fuck him right there in the grass and clover. He’d have to take a moment to lock his grandmother in her bedroom first, but oh well.

He swallowed. “Could I get you something?” he asked in a strained but fair approximation of an adult with hidden motives and an agenda. “Water? Iced tea? …Coffee?”

He wondered if they had any honey in the house.

Disappointingly, G.G. didn’t look up from exchanging adoring looks with Ellie. “I’m all right, thank you.”

Maybe G.G. just had excellent manners and had offered Trevor coffee because it was the thing to do.Fuck, G.G. had impeccable manners even when bleeding into a dishtowel. Maybe he had one of those WASPy families who were all about appearances and breeding but didn’t know how to show affection. That would explain some things. Although Trevor’s limited direct experience of WASP types did not make him think many of them worked in construction, unless they owned the companies.

“It’s interesting to see where the vegetables come from,” G.G. remarked out of nowhere. Or not, because he was there to return a dish and Trevor was thinking of irrelevant things.

“Vegetables?”

It at least got G.G.’s attention back on Trevor, as well as his Mothman hat, which G.G.’s gaze went to again.

“When I first moved in, and the year after that, Margaret would leave bags of vegetables on my porch. I think she did it for Mrs. Wheaton too, although I’m not sure she took them. Your grandmother stopped after that. I figured that she didn’t feel up to gardening anymore, or that she had less to spare with someone else in the house.”

“We also gave some to the local food pantry. With people out of work because of the plague, they had a bigger demand. I’ve discovered I like growing things, maybe too much, and am too invested into planning to maximize our output,” Trevor revealed. “Because there’s only so much eggplant or zucchini that we can eat ourselves.” His grandmother could have mentioned that she had these quiet relationships with her neighbors. Trevor would have delivered vegetables to G.G. no problem. “I didn’t realize she used to share with you guys. Was there something you especially liked? We plant in stages depending on grow times and the season, so not everything is in the ground yet. If you were looking for something in particular, I can probably grow some for you.”

G.G.’s eyes widened with alarm. “I wasn’t hinting.”

“Yeah,” Trevor said, slow, fighting the urge to beam at G.G. fondly while also reckoning with the offer he’d just made because he now fervently wanted to provide vegetables for G.G. “I didn’t think you were. I’m offering. You like tomatoes? We’ll have a ton. I keep thinking we should get more fruit trees, but even this one plum tree is like inviting squirrels to a buffet, and Ellie and squirrels have a contentious relationship.”

G.G. bent down to pick up Ellie’s toy at last and toss it toward the tree in question. Ellie dashed after it. “Fruit trees? For pies?”

Trevor didn’t know how to make pies. But crusts could be purchased premade, so they must mostly be a matter of the filling. Was baking like cooking? He’d need more lessons. ThenRedwallfeasts for everyone.

Oh. No wonder Sky had been so taken aback. He’d guessed. Trevor was that predictable.

“Ideally,” Trevor answered G.G. lightly despite his embarrassed inner turmoil. His grandma might have questions if he asked about pies too suddenly. “And take them to family events, once those start happening again. Or for my grandma or… whoever. Whoever might ask for them.” Sky had once fallen in love with mini lemon meringue pies they’d been served at a wedding, as much for the size and adorable look as the taste. That was another argument in favor of getting a lemon tree.

“You don’t like pie?” G.G. studied Trevor without a hint of judgment, but perhaps some doubt and concern. “Not a sweets person?”

“Sweets are good,” Trevor assured him. “I just can’t bake them.”

“I can…” G.G. started to say, then gave a small, firm shake of his head and changed the subject. “This yard is more restful than the front yard. Itlookscareless, but the design underneath it all speaks of intent. Margaret laid a good foundation here. I’m glad you’re helping her build on it.”

Never in his life had Trevor been given such a compliment. His art regularly aroused people who weren’t shy about telling him so, and he had some casual fans and regular patrons. He had not once considered his small role in helping to create paradise on earth as something important enough to mention.

His sister sure didn’t. Trevor got the feeling Amanda thought he was having some sort of vacation by being here, and not that life and the nightmare that was 2020 had demanded it.

“You could grow some native plants in your yard,” Trevor suggested, as close to breathless as he got when not jogging or jacking off. “They’re almost no fuss, since they want to be here. I could help, if you needed.” He really couldn’t stop himself. “Obviously,” he continued before G.G. could comment, “I have some time. But I do like it. I’ve learned that. The digging in the dirt but also the stuff that needs to be done before that can happen.”

G.G.’s eyebrows went up. “You mean you didn’t grow up gardening? You learned how to do thisrecently?”

Trevor had no idea what he was feeling. Insane levels of pride and pleasure to have impressed G.G. and also slightly, secretly humiliated that he apparently hadn’t impressed anyone in his family because they’d never reacted like that. “It’s a hobby,” he answered at last. “I… like to plan things. Turns out gardens like that.”

“Mrs. Wheaton gardens as a hobby. This is something else,” G.G. said, insisted really, for all that his voice was low and soft. Trevor belatedly remembered the fadedWheatonon Nancy’s mailbox. “I got the impression she took it up mostly for something to do, but also maybe to keep an eye on your grandmother.” G.G. lowered his voice even more after a glance toward the window. “Even with how often your family visited, I think Margaret struggled with being alone. I didn’t really know her when I moved in, but she seemed… lost. As anyone would be in her situation. Being alone is an adjustment.”

“So, to give them something in common, Nancy keeps trying to grow flowers around her porch?” Trevor was so glad he’d done Nancy’s gutters for her, gross though the entire chore had been.

G.G. gave him a slight, crooked smile. “She used to take Margaret’s newspaper—back when Margaret still got the paper—up from the curb to the porch for her. And once Alyssa, who at the time wasn’t… is the term goth or emo? Or is itscenenow?” G.G. scrunched his nose at the last word and it was either the nose scrunching or the awkward way he said ‘scene’ but Trevor understood even more intensely what a ravenous beast like a dragon might feel upon meeting a quiet, tasty warrior.

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